


Now listen all ye fair maids to how the moral goes

by closetcellist



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Wing damage, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist
Summary: Nobody knew, and nobody knows.Lucifer is looking for someone to entertain him while Lillith is away and he choses Val.
Relationships: Lucifer Magne/Valentino
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Now listen all ye fair maids to how the moral goes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shopping for Services](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/741102) by @voidseeker_ on Twitter. 



Valentino kept the grin plastered on his face as he led Lucifer to one of his private rooms in Porn Studios, trying to remember how long it had been since he’d entertained a client himself. Lovers, certainly. Conquests. But a client…decades. He was out of practice, and for good reason.

“My dear Valentino,” Lucifer drawled, from just a few steps behind him, just short enough that he reached Valentino’s shoulder, the voice slithering into his mind like a snake. “I hope I haven’t made you  _ nervous _ . I’d hate to think we weren’t going to have a good time.”   
  
“Not at all, my lord,” Valentino said, glancing over his shoulder with a coy grin he pulled from somewhere in his past. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”   
  
“Lucky indeed,” Lucifer said with a quiet chuckle that tickled something deep in Valentino’s hindbrain, making him shiver. It was rare he wasn’t the strongest one in the room. Too rare, he thought vaguely, and wondered where that had come from.

He stopped before a door much like the others on this floor, though the inside was more luxurious and well-appointed, suited for the highest value clients, and containing, in several tastefully concealed but easily accessible locations, whatever accoutrements those clients might require to achieve satisfaction.

Valentino stepped inside, holding the door open and gesturing with two of his arms, bowing slightly as Lucifer strolled slowly in, taking in the space with a pleased glance and approving nod. The warm light from the lamps bounced gently off the mostly red decor, granting a soft pink hue to Lucifer’s otherwise dreadful pallor, making him seem, for a moment, almost approachable. Almost soft. Almost.

Until he turned again to face Valentino and swept his eyes over the moth with the same appraising look. “Yes, I think this will do nicely,” he said, removing his hat and tossing it carelessly toward the bed, though he himself walked over to one of the plush chairs, sitting and crossing his legs, one ankle resting on the knee of the other, elbows on the arms of the chair and fingers steepled, as at home here as on any throne. Valentino felt almost awkward and had to glance away to scowl as he repressed the emotion, swallowed it down like so much bile.

When he’d put a serviceable grin back on his face, he approached Lucifer. “Is there anything I can get for you, my lord? Refreshments before the night’s entertainment?”   
  
“No, I shouldn’t worry about any of that,” Lucifer said, holding Valentino’s gaze. “You know quite well why I’m here, and I’m afraid it isn’t for the hors d’oeuvres and conversation.”   
  
“Then how do you want to do this?” Valentino asked, knowing even as the words came out that they were too short, too sharp.   
  
Lucifer just smiled wider. “I’m sure you’re capable of putting on a good show for me,” he said. “You did dance at one time, did you not? Surely the body remembers.”

“Of course,” Valentino said, taking out his phone from his pocket to pull up a song he liked, buying himself a moment to plug it into the room’s sound system. He supposed he should thank Vox for being a needy bitch sometimes and keeping him in practice.

With a deep, centering breath, he turned back and was distantly surprised to see Lucifer hadn’t moved at all, except his eyes, which remained glued to Valentino, and must have been on him the entire time. But the song was starting and he had other things to focus on in that moment, whipping his hat off and moving, swaying with the music. He’d always thought demons with more than one set of arms made better dancers—more to move and more to draw the eye—though he avoided catching Lucifer’s gaze again until he’d shed his signature coat and heard a small gasp from his audience, the first real sign he’d had any effect at all on the other man.

He’d hoped it was the corset and fishnets that had caught the king of hell’s attention, but no such luck, as when he turned around, he heard Lucifer’s murmur clear enough. “You  _ do _ have wings.”

They were small things, a dusty white like his ruff with small red heart-esque details, absolutely unable to fly and so, so delicate. Vulnerable. They fluttered absently as Valentino continued to dance, freed from their usual covering and able to stretch. “Not much use, I’m afraid,” Valentino murmured with a put on moue as he straddled Lucifer’s lap, grinding against him and surprisingly gratified to find he had been at least a little affected by the show. “Can’t fly.”   
  
“A shame,” Lucifer said, though his expression indicated they were anything but. He kept his hands to himself, for now. “They’re lovely.”

“Knew you had good taste,” Valentino said with a quiet chuckle, draping his arms around Lucifer’s shoulders for a moment, before dragging his hands down his front, unbuttoning his jacket, carefully—it was probably worth more than his best whores brought in in a week—and tugging the fussy bowtie undone and free.

Lucifer caught his chin in his hand then, tugging him forward almost gently and pulling him into a kiss. Valentino froze for a moment before he reciprocated. He didn’t kiss clients, as a rule, but he supposed Lucifer would get what he wanted one way or the other, and it wasn’t as though he was a bad kisser. It was hungry, dangerous as tongues danced between obscenely sharp teeth, and they both suffered a few nicks from it, though the taste of blood was always an aphrodisiac and they healed quickly enough for it to be nothing but a little thrill.

When Valentino pulled back, the hunger was in Lucifer’s eyes as well, and his hand was on Valentino’s shoulder, pushing him slowly but with inexorable force downwards, and the direction was clear enough. Valentino slid off Lucifer’s lap and down between the king’s thighs, on his knees and looking up and if that wasn’t exactly how Lucifer wanted to see everyone all the time Valentino would eat his damn hat as he watched that hunger flare into a fire.

“Go on then,” Lucifer said, and his voice seemed deeper, somehow, with new and dizzying harmonics. Valentino didn’t need to be told twice, unfastening Lucifer’s trousers, drawing him out with one hand, two on Lucifer’s thighs for balance and leverage, and the last sliding down to palm himself through his own panties. He swallowed the king of hell in one smooth motion, careful to keep his fangs to himself and utilize his talented tongue. He groaned as he stroked himself through thin silk, his sounds of pleasure translating near directly into Lucifer’s own.

Valentino had no hair to pull, but he did have antennae and Lucifer seemed pleased enough to use those when he wanted to direct, and his claws the rest of the time, clutching pinpoints of pain that sat right on the line of pleasant and irritating for Valentino and his sadomasochistic tendencies.

With no warning, Valentino was unceremoniously tugged off Lucifer’s cock by a fist around his feathered antenna, wincing and letting out a hiss of pain. He looked up at Lucifer and regretted it immediately, though whether or not it was better to have warning before an inevitable storm you could not escape was a subject of much debate among sinners. Lucifer looked--well, he looked every part the demon, the soft lighting of the room now doing nothing to soften his pallor, adding only under lighting reminiscent of the flames that human souls on Earth expected to await them. His shadow stretched farther than it should on the wall behind them, in a way the light shouldn’t create, six wings stretched in darkness to their full span. Valentino sat heavily backwards, managing to suppress the urge to scramble away.

Lucifer stood from the armchair, and while it should have been ridiculous, his cock bobbing and sticking out from rouched and rumpled pants still mostly on, from his position on the floor he was a colossus, one of the gods from the strange heathen religions he’d heard of so vaguely and briefly, a priapic Zeus. Lucifer reached down and grabbed Valentino by the chin, though the intention felt as though he’d been grabbed by the neck, urging the moth to his feet and then guiding—leading—pushing him toward the bed. Lucifer spun him around and with a shove, left him sprawled face down on the bed, bent at the waist, and a hand on his back, between his wings (his thin, fragile,  _ vulnerable _ wings, which twitched and fluttered anxiously) kept him there as he shifted to get more comfortable, spreading his legs wider for better balance as much as to entice.

“My lord—” Valentino began, but Lucifer cut him off.

“I do not require your conversation any longer,” Lucifer said, those strange harmonics still there. He lifted his hand from Valentino’s back but only to drag claws down his sides, tearing the silk panties and shredding his fishnets without thought.

Valentino groaned headily as Lucifer pressed into him without preparation, relishing the stretch and sting of it. He clutched at the sheets below him with all four hands, his breath hitching as Lucifer dug his claws into his hips. Fuck, the pain was good, and he ground down against the sheets, but they were far too smooth for the friction he craved.

When Lucifer ran a careful claw over the edge of Valentino’s wing, he stilled, suddenly frozen in place, though when Lucifer did it again, he shuddered, the slightest brush of claw against the small scales that coated his wings setting him to shivering like a virgin.

“Exquisite,” Lucifer murmured, drawing back and slamming into Valentino again. The combination of pain from the claws that remained in his hip and the hypersensitive gentleness of Lucifer’s other hand brushing across his wings left Valentino half out of his mind, and he was sure he made sounds he’d be embarrassed about if he remembered them later. But the walls were thick in all his rooms to afford privacy--the only one who would hear these noises outside the pair of them was Vox, if he had reason to review the footage from the cameras that littered Porn Studios.

It could have been minutes or hours that Valentino swam in that sea of sensations, but when Lucifer suddenly gripped the base of his wings tightly in each hand, he was jerked back into awareness with a sudden gasp. “My lord—!” he gasped, trying to push himself up to relieve the tension and strain but Lucifer only let go of one wing to shove him back down, that hand now on the back of his head, leaving him gasping and straining not to struggle as, a few puffs at a time, Lucifer’s uncaring grip on his wing slowly stripping the scales away.

“I did say I wouldn’t be nice,” Lucifer said, his voice thick and wild as his hips stuttered and slammed into Valentino out of rhythm and time. All at once, Lucifer seized both of Valentino’s wings again and tore, digging in with his claws and shredding the delicate material, a puff of white and red spraying over them both as the feather-like scales were ripped away. Valentino let out a scream of pain that ravaged his vocal cords and Lucifer spilled into him, though he barely felt the heat of it before he blacked out.

Valentino swam back to consciousness only moments later, still splayed out half on the bed, but Lucifer had already put himself back together, and was fixing his bowtie when Valentino tried to push himself up, shuddering as he pulled away from his own seed on the sheets and groaning as his back protested with a flare of pain.

“You were truly incredible,” Lucifer said, making sure Valentino was looking at him as he held out his hand, raining golden coins from it into a scattered pile on the floor. “I’ll be sure to tell all my friends,” he added, flippantly, before he left the room.

It took Valentino a while to pull himself together enough to get off the bed. Despite his desire to cover himself, his attempt to put his coat back on left him smothering another scream with two of his hands when the fabric touched his mangled wings, and he dropped it back to the floor. He forced himself to breathe, crouching to collect the coins--Favors, official and from Lucifer himself, far more valuable than cash, and so, so many of them. It was more than enough to cover a night with him, back when he still let himself be bought. It must be enough now.

Some time later, there was a quiet knock on the door, and before he could speak, Angel Dust opened it a crack and poked his head in. “Val?” he asked quietly. “You oka—oh—” He cut himself off, his eyes wide as he took in the scene, so familiar but never with Valentino as the star of it.   
  
Valentino’s eyes narrowed, and he snarled. “Get out,” he snapped, with an acidic vehemence that should have melted the floor. “Now!”

Angel Dust fled, closing the door behind him immediately, but the damage had been done, a smear on Valentino’s perfect image, and he cursed himself. He’d take it out on someone tomorrow, that was certain.

Later, cleaned up and counting his Favors, Valentino told himself he didn’t regret it.


End file.
